


These Three Beasts

by CampionSayn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Next Generation, Headcanon Compliant, Multi, Prompt Fill, This is getting edited, basically a dumping ground, multiple trigger warnings, romance isn't running this show but it does exist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-04-19 12:58:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4747337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here are the answers to some questions. Here are questions that go on a while. Here is absolute garbage. Here is something that might not be agreed upon. Mostly stuff for the Next Gen, but I go in all directions, not just forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Next Gen: Year 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea why I'm doing this. Well, no, that's half a lie. I just realized that either James Sirius or Albus Severus would be starting school this month and decided, hey, my other fics aren't going anywhere, let's procrastinate. 
> 
> I am fully aware that my few followers probably hate me a little for this.

**“[There was something awesome in the thought of the solitary mortal standing by the open window and summoning in from the gloom outside the spirits of the nether world.](http://thinkexist.com/quotation/there-was-something-awesome-in-the-thought-of-the/349482.html)”**  
---  
  
**[Arthur Conan Doyle, Sr. quotes](http://thinkexist.com/quotes/arthur_conan_doyle,_sr./)**  
  
**  
Accio~**

* * *

  
  
Gryffindor red and gold looked absently out of sorts on the Malfoy boy that walked the school grounds _(his second week and still all alone, save for his books and some of the birds of the grounds flittering about above him when he went wandering away from staring other students)_ and it wasn't all to do with his parentage. The black lines of his thin glasses and his lack of skin pigmentation _(summer gave him more color than usual, but the tan was already starting to fade)_ made him closely resemble one of the ghosts that blustered about the school and he sort of felt like a puff of air holding up the brightness of hues. Made all the more obvious by that fact he hadn't anyone to walk with or talk to yet.  
  
The Gryffindors that did try and get to know him were put off by how he was apparently **shy** _(hah, his father would disagree based solely on all the baby pictures of him making friends with every squirrel or bunny rabbit or House Elf he could find from the time he was two)_ or standoffish or whatever.  
  
Of course, his parentage still didn't help, and the students that were biased against his family history and too verbal immediately realized he was exceedingly clever with words. Multiple tongue-lashings had transpired in the short amount of thirteen days. Only Professor Longbottom even seemed willing to give him anyone to talk to or could stand to be around him and that was only for a few minutes a day.  
  
So between his personality and his ability to actually stand up for himself, Scorpius found he was decidedly alone--  
  
"Hey, you're taller than Al!"  
  
...Or something?  
  
The voice hadn't been a yell or a statement, but an amplified stage whisper rushing out between two hands cupped together like a trumpet to head in his direction so he could hear it.  
  
It worked, he supposed, since he stopped moving towards the Black Lake and paused to look over some yards away from his path to find an extremely fluffy redhead Hufflepuff girl and an incredibly flustered looking Slytherin boy who was turning red in abject horror as he stared between the girl and Scorpius. Both were in the grass under the shade of a giant Oak tree sitting in a crouch or what looked rather uncomfortable on their knees, also slightly submerged in what the Gryffindor presumed to be flower weeds or basic stuff the Herbology teacher grew to look pretty in spring and summer before winter killed it off or they got choked to death by nettles and hawkbit.  
  
The redhead smiled when Scorpius pointed to himself, nodded an affirmative 'yes, you' and then looked away from both him and the still blushing Slytherin, settling her sights some further yards away on a small cluster of wild rabbits Scorpius hadn't noticed.  
  
Her friend, 'Al' most likely, stage whispered apologetically, eyeing the rabbits and slowly trying to get up without shifting to make noise. If Scorpius had to guess, the redhead would have been displeased if her friend made the bundles of fur run away,  
  
"I'm sorry, she's been doing that all day to a lot of the other students just to prove a point."  
  
"A point?" The Gryffindor questioned quietly as the Slytherin that he recalled from the Great Hall as being especially reluctant to even go near the Sorting Hat when they'd entered the school, but had seemed, well, more composed when his house had been called out and a set of Gryffindors started clapping before anyone else.  
  
"That she's not the only one taller than me in our year," the other explained, a look of familial exhaustion and understanding painting his face—much like Scorpius saw his father do whenever his son wandered out of wizarding London and into Muggle streets and found something interesting that he wouldn't stop pestering the older Malfoy about until he finally admitted he had no idea about it and made mother laugh herself red, "Which doesn't really count since I'm still shorter than a girl!"  
  
The end note to that was said at a higher volume and the rabbits finally took real notice and bolted away from them. The girl made a disappointed whimper and fell over onto her side, knees positively in agony from staying in that position that long, "No, wait, don't go away...!"  
  
Al looked sorry for about a quarter of a second, but then he just crossed his arms and tapped his foot as though his patience was at its end, "Rose, they live here, you'll probably see them around again. Now could you please get up and apologize for startling... I'm sorry, what was your name?"  
  
Scorpius blinked and weighed his options about just telling them his first name, but really, if he didn't say it right off, they'd just probe further. Best to get it over with.  
  
"Scorpius Malfoy."  
  
The Hufflepuff stood up from her rolling over in the grass and—wow, she was really taller than both boys—dusted off before holding out her hand for a shake, "I already knew that, dad told me, but anyway, I'm Rose Granger-Weasley. And this is Albus Potter, my cousin hanging out with me instead of getting to know his fellow Slytherins."  
  
"I am not!"  
  
"Oh, so you're just avoiding James and his coming to pounce on you to say 'I told you so' then?"  
  
They both seemed like they were going to keep at their arguing _(if it could be called that, what with Rose being so calm and mellow while Albus riled up over what seemed like a lot of confusing things to Scorpius)_ but paused when the Gryffindor still hadn't shook Rose's hand and seemed quite amiss at the action even occurring.  
  
Really, he didn't think he'd ever been in this situation. Not only was he talking to the daughter of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, but the second son of The Harry Potter. And instead of sneering at him or telling him to go away like all the other people in his year had, they seemed somehow expectant. And Rose still hadn't dropped her hand even after saying she...already knew his name?  
  
"I'm sorry, your dad already told you who I am?"  
  
"Well, yeah, you were at the train station with everyone else and dad and mom saw your dad and pointed you out and said something about not dating—which I still don't get since he did that already at the house."  
  
"Uncle Ron's paranoid," Albus shrugged, uninterested in the statement and waving off her concerns, "He also told you not to date either Schmander and got freaked out when you were four and asked if you and Kreacher could get married."  
  
Rose actually looked a little embarrassed at that, but Scorpius seemed to be missing something so he interrupted this lovely anecdote for his own question, "So you already know I'm a Malfoy?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"And... you don't have a problem with that?"  
  
He didn't want to chase them off, Merlin he didn't, they were actually being _nice_ to him, but that had happened before and then gone downhill really fast throughout his life because sometimes people didn't recognize the name right away and then when they did they never spoke to Scorpius again, or worse, so he just wanted to be sure he wasn't setting himself up for disappointment.  
  
Al, big green eyes taking in how Scorpius seemed at odds with himself, caught on to what the underlying question to that question really was, 'You don't have a problem with that' meaning 'don't you know my family used to be full of Death Eaters' and acted according to his nature, sharing a look with Rose to follow his lead.  
  
"Nope. Dad didn't have a problem with the Malfoy's after the war and sometimes mentions Draco Malfoy after work for a case about his assistance. Your dad's a Healer, right?"  
  
Scorpius nodded.  
  
Rose put in her piece, smiling, the corners of her lips almost brushing the edges of her bright blue eyes, "Mom says he's actually pretty good at it. And she likes your mom, too."  
  
The blonde seemed to be enhanced in the light of his shyness at not a bad word, but a compliment, being laid at his feet about his family, hands bunching up in his robes and unsure of what to do or say at that. Nobody ever had anything good to say about his dad, so Scorpius was always on defense and now...  
  
"Say," Al spoke when it seemed Scorpius wasn't going to ask anything else, resting a hand on the blonde's shoulder and then pointing back towards the school, rather than the Black Lake _(there wasn't anything Scorpius had to do there, he just preferred to be alone with the water and sky and clouds—and the giant squid eyeing him—rather than being pointed at and whispered about behind his back)_ lunch is about to be served and since it's the weekend Quidditch tryouts, we were gonna grab a snack and head over to watch."  
  
Rose adjusted her yellow tie and scarf and prodded at the red and gold coming loose around his neck, moving them to a more snug position so the wind wouldn't get at his pale skin, almost motherly as both her grandmothers and mother, "Would you like to come along? If you're not busy?"  
  
Above their heads, some owls screeched out, flying away from the school to deliver letters; behind them, the giant squid caught a small school of fish and was in the beginning process of devouring them; on the other side of the castle grounds, the Whomping Willow knocked seven crows away from its branches.  
  
Scorpius grinned so wide that it totally dwarfed the choked happiness that clogged up his throat when he said he'd really like that.


	2. Next Gen: Year 4

_You're the reason why I smile._  
_-Avril Lavigne: Smile_ **  
  
Nox** ~

* * *

  
Scorpius notices colors among his friends, but not in any sort of racial way. More... he finds vast differences in his best friends qualities they possess and the rest of their blood kin do not.  
  
All the children sired by Arthur Weasley have ginger hair, pumpkin hair, light tones that make Scorpius think of the beginnings of the school year, leaves falling to the ground from Beach trees and light as to border on yellow. Many a time his grandfather had said they could easily be spotted by their shabby clothes ( _not quite so shabby these days, and anyway, the blonde sort of liked the faded binding in their robes—it made it even more obvious that they had lived full lives)_ and their red hair.  
  
But the only Weasley Scorpius could seem to find with RED hair was Rose. Lily might have descended from them, but like her mother, it still was kind of an orange hue. Like fire with thick wood to eat up and spit coals from.  
  
Rose was the only redhead of the lot, and he would never be convinced otherwise—red after all, was fresh spilled blood, rouge applied to the lips like his mother used to make herself feel pretty, the inside of a full heart, bolder even than the Gryffindor scarf around his neck; her fine wisps of hair rarely held in a tail and easily given to any owls nice enough to ask for some to wind in their nests.  
  
And then there was Al, with his almost glowing neon sign lit bottle glass flashed and perched high green eyes with his cold sky New moon night black hair.  
  
Perhaps Mr. Potter had once been in possession of hair quite so dark, but not so thick and deep as his middle child's. He was getting older and the pictures of him in a lot of history papers didn't do him justice. Al's hair didn't even seem to reflect the light—too matte and while it was still unruly, it was almost a controlled chaos.  
  
Still, Scorpius was not convinced that they could be any more or less different if he had tried, comparing them to their families. He wouldn't say anything about it, of course.  
  
But he would delight in it, privately. He had plenty of pictures of them on his walls and in the photo album his father got him when it became obvious that despite all his grandparents' bickering about it, they would never stop accumulating.  
  
It wasn't his fault he started noticing, anyway. They'd both kind of started this for Scorpius when Al commented on his hair being a much brighter platinum compared to Draco and Lucius and Rose introduced her and Al as friends of Scorpius when they'd run into each other in an Auror office in the Ministry; her complimenting how Draco's eyes were just as pretty as his son's and being sure that it was hereditary.


	3. Next Gen: Year 1

_On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your pain?  
-Big Hero 6._

* * *

**Episkey** ~  
  
The actual doorway to the empty classroom was a dark turquoise color that went plenty well with the faded sky blue of the room but on the outside it looked a little creepy.  
  
This was the thought that passed through his mind before Scorpius found the wood to the classroom floor—rotted underneath and festering holes where nobody could see them—snapping angry and a blind flash beneath him and suddenly he was falling.  
  
Falling.  
  
Falling.  
  
His right leg made a sick cracking sound when he hit the stone floor of the rooms just beneath where he'd come from, most likely adjacent to the dungeons or potions classroom, and the rest of him landed ungracefully in a heap. He didn't cry out—or he thinks he didn't cry out, but the pain was so bad that his teeth tried to burrow into his lips to focus on something other than— _Owowowowowowow, oh Merlin, this hurts, this hurts, please help me, pleasepleasepleasepleasePLEASE_ —and, oh, wait, this was the tunnel hall leading to the underground Herbology classes where Professor Longbottom kept some of the more dangerous night flourishing plants.  
  
"Merlin's beard!"  
  
And suudenly they was a blazing eyed cat sniffing at his injuries and Argus Filch and Hagrid _(how the hell he managed to stoop so low and still fit through the hall was beyond anything Scorpius could currently process under the circumstances)_ rushing over to him, gently gently asking if he was conscious and where was he hurting and telling the cat to go and get another stuent or a teacher because neither of them could work a wand properly for such an injury to his leg. They would risk making it worse.  
  
He barely registered when Hagrid picked him up and he was sitting, cradled, in the half-giant's arms like he was six again with his father rather than the eleven year old he really was, in pain but with the undoubting knowledge that these two people would look after him.  
  
"Easy there, l'il lion, Mrs. N'rris 'll be back 'ere soon'r than la'er wit' th' nurse an' y'll be fine, I reckon."  
  
Scorpius just nodded, clenching his jaw and biting the inside of his cheek to try and stop the beginnings of tears starting at the corners of his eyes, blurry already from his glasses dropping from his face when he crashed. It didn't do any real good, the tears did fall, but Hagrid was good enough to at least save his dignity in not mentioning it, rather, he rubbed the back of the child's head entirely with just two huge fingers and waited.  
  
When the cat came back, Filch met her in the entrance and made the nurse hurry along; his foot finding the glasses Scorpius had lost and old, knotted fingers picking them up with minor apology.

 


	4. Riddikulus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had it lived long, is would have been  
> Lilies without, roses within.  
> -Andrew Marvell.

Severus Snape spent his entire childhood and adult life dedicated to a woman that loved him for a time, changed, moved on and died. He spent his prime looking after her son in secret and hidden behind his armor of black cynicism,   
Followed almost incidentally by looking after the second to last child of a family he'd never cared for and a muggleborn girl that was sensible but exasperating.   
His death should have allowed him to stop having to put himself on the line for others, but within his portrait in Hogwarts,  
He simply couldn't cease his interest and quiet observation of Lily Luna Potter or Rose Weasley once they arrived at school themselves, each involved in a trio of their own, but with a generation gap only he seemed to really think was of much practical use.  
Both came to see him in his portrait, Lily's kind eyes the same brown as most female ducks and a reason for momentary disappointment before one or both of her trio,  
 _James Sirius Potter and Hugo Weasley, older and younger than their female counterpart, a compliment on her person_ ,  
Came to add to their conversation or haul her away so she wouldn't be late for class.  
  
Perhaps it was too much to hope that he'd get a second Lily in _this_ second Lily. Perhaps it was even more cruel to her than himself, since she was a child with an honorable name but a personality and life her own.  
Lily Evans would never have used him in a joke, after all,  
taking his portrait frame and switching it out with the still life fruit in the Great Hall or the room designs in the Hospital Wing or,   
Horror and horror again,  
Star constellation frames from the Divination classrooms where he'd sometimes end up for days before he'd curse or scream at Trelawney or the centaur to put him back downstairs. Both her and Hugo Weasley hanging off of James Potter's skinny boned, broad Quidditch player back perpetually; added limbs he was better off not having since this also lead to him dropping his glasses all too often.  
  
 _"I like your hair."  
  
"Your's is not so bad either."_  
  
She apologized and was polite enough he supposed, even if each time he saw her he would usually brood too deeply even hours later until Dumbledore came to tell him something he thought Snape might find amusing.  
Which he never did.  
  
Rose was a different matter on the whole,  
Hufflepuff not in that she didn't exhibit traits from other houses, but in that she _did_.   
  
She was loud when she was angry,  
She was quiet when comforting anyone but herself,  
She didn't let anyone she knew get bullied and if it happened when she wasn't looking and she found it out, those bullies would be found out by herself and her best friends and unlikely to do the same thing ever again. Even Potions Master Zabini had suffered all of their wrath and been cowed enough to learn that he would not stoop to the level Severus had to go down to with maintaining his cover;  
His portrait was only left in places he could appreciate—the Slytherin common rooms by Al; next to the Fat Lady so he could yell at quite a few Gryffindors for showing up past curfew or alert Longbottom when they tried to sneak out by Scorpius; snuck into Ravenclaw Tower if he mentioned that he might be concerned about Lily; brought down to the Potions classroom before lessons whenever he was bored—and _they_ always brought him back to his original spot;  
Sometimes they just brought him along walking through the castle to talk and ask questions and save him from pointless conversations with other dead headmasters.  
  
Severus genuinely cared about these three because he had no reason _not_ to. He had nothing to live up to, to complete a bargain in, to spy and survive and lie for now.  
The feeling was so refreshing that he almost forgot _WHY_ he worried more about the girls than he did for the boys.  
  
 _"Potter, where might your cousin be? Doesn't she usually observe you and Malfoy during Quidditch practice?"  
  
"She crashed into a tree while flying her broom again; Madame Pomfrey's keeping her until all the broken bones in her arms and shoulders mend. Lily's there to keep her company anyway; she's undergoing the same treatment for shattering her kneecap falling off a Hippogriff in class."_  
  
Severus shuddered as, often, he thought of his own mother saying, __"Well, my dear, these are beautiful and do smell wondrous, but you should usually only use white lilies and red roses on graves."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying a new technique and don't know if it will work for anything other than DREARY.


	5. Cantis: 3rd Year, Snape's Portrait, Al Potter, James Potter II and Scorpius

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bah, bah, Black Ship have you any wool?  
> Yes, sir. Yes, sir,  
> But in order to see it you'll need  
> Top Secret Government Clearance.  
> -NCIS.

"How long until this jinx wears off? I actually think if the oxygen deprivation doesn't knock him out, all the blood rushing to his head sure will."  
  
"Brilliant deduction Jamie."  
  
James ducked his head down to avoid the _beyond_ condescending look Scorpius and Snape were directing at him from their place on the tree they'd sought refuge by when Professor Sprout had realized she couldn't reverse the jinx and Al really couldn't take the embarrassment among his peers for the rest of the lesson. Scorpius leaning from his place on a low hanging bough and Snape from where his portrait had been hung in the branch above the blonde.  
  
Al was three boughs up and praying for the singing jinx he'd been placed under, by one of Jamie's crueler Gryffindor dorm mates, to end. Or for oblivion in passing out, whichever came first.  
  
Snape didn't bother to stop his world class disdainful look, even as Al ended his actually fairly pleasant rendition of "The Sorting Song" and went straight into one of the more graphic pub drinking songs of the Leaky Cauldron Snape was 90% sure Harry had never intended his children to hear until they'd graduated school and could drink legally. Granted, they could have learned it from Weasley while neither Potter or Granger were looking, but that was wishful thinking and perhaps a little of his personal bias showing. Realistically, Severus suspected the miserable brat had learned it from a fellow Slytherin.  
  
Scorpius had the decency to cover his ears and count to ten as Al started in on the verse involving a plain Irish maiden and a handsome centaur from Patagonia, bemused further when Jamie followed his lead only after Al got to the bit about their escapades in a sugar field for three days.  
  
Honestly, the Malfoy heir DIDN'T actually know the song, but basically all pub songs were the same according to his father, so he'd always taken the man's advice in getting out once characters were introduced--he didn't want his son scarred for life, bless him.  
  
Al officially wanted to die under a rock once that ended and Snape actually stopped glaring at Jamie to chance a glance filled to the brim with _PITY_ at Potter's second son.  
  
Jamie let go of his ears and, with the complete lack of hesitation that can only come from living with someone since they were born, helping them grow and seeing them naked in the wash too many times to count, shimmied up to Al's branch once yet another song flitted out of his mouth in the beginning stages of hiccups and slurring speech with the Slytherin's eyes brimming over and being unable to stop long enough to scream into his hands.  
  
The weight of the older brother caused the branch to dip a little, but he maintained his balance enough until he was sitting next to his sibling and rubbing circles along his back, ignoring the looks from both the dead man and the blonde.   
  
"Don't worry too much, Al. Once this is over with, I'll get Fred and Roxie and we'll go bury Macmillan in an empty matchbox in the Forbidden Forest where nobody will ever find him."  
  
"Endearing as your suitably violent promises of retribution are, mister Potter, perhaps it is not the best idea to voice them where _I CAN HEAR YOU_ ," Snape called up, taking a seat by his painted fire and pouring himself some Scotch as it seemed Al's verses and volume seemed to be dying down.  
  
Jamie shrugged and waved off the threat of being ratted out to McGonagall with the air of someone who was used to having his plans of paying back the cause of his brother's torment overheard by a man who was equal parts terrifying and admirable.


	6. Ceiling Watchers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Through the decades and generations of Hogwarts, the castle has seen more things than the teachers ever will. Many things have happened before, and would likely happen again.
> 
> That, or the castle sometimes gets to be surprised with something deliciously NEW.

_-:-_  
_But things change. Given enough time, nothing stands still._  
_-Ang Lee._

* * *

  
  
Blaise tried not to feel as surprised as he was, but damn if that was nearly impossible when there was an over-sized rooster perched on his chest. And this was what he woke up to far too early in the morning to his liking, from what he could tell from the clock perched on his bookshelf on the other side of the room, happily ticking away.   
  
Did he mention that the bird _(staring down on him like he was far too good for the wizard)_ was wearing a ribbon around its neck with a bell on it?  
  
Unfortunately, his second surprise of the ungodly hour came at the tail tip of the first.   
  
As he had gotten up, dressed in his bed robes that whirled around his feet and whole of himself, rather similar to the way Professor Snape had been in life, but without the assurance of grace that had defined the man, he had chased the entirely too friendly, too prim bird out of his rooms _(it was admittedly quite fetching for a simple barn animal that obviously was not of any sort of wizard property stock; a white base coat that seemed to shine silver under the lights as it passed along the windows that showed out into the lake, ebony streaked green feathers waving along the tail and the crest of its head that were both absurdly long for a bird usually just meant to be eaten that really shouldn't look so pretty)._  Its eyes that weren't quite so stupid as Blaise always assumed them to be, just glancing at him and pausing momentarily before they passed into the common room. Like a companion.  
  
Stepping through the doorway, his eyes trying and failing to register the scenery that was _supposed_ to be there, he suddenly realized where the damn bird must have come from.  
  
The Slytherin common room, for the first time since his first year as a student and beyond as an individual anywhere near the school proper, looked like a _nice_ place to be.   
  
_Not_ cold and covered in green hue from the lake with the candles only casting so much light, or with water droplets amassing into puddles secreting into the corners or near the fireplace that he, as Head, would have to magic away to keep the children from catching flu or cold or pneumonia.   
  
"...but, _how_ do you catch and share memories without the use of a penseive?"  
  
"Oh, please don't get her started on that."  
  
"What, why? I wanna know."  
  
Five o'clock in the morning, on a holiday celebrated by most of the students, and the three that would have made his hair fall out _(had Zabini kept it long rather than shaved)_ given enough time, had apparently made the Slytherin house more livable and almost quite...homey.   
  
There were sheets-- _probably transfigured napkins and handkerchiefs, judging from their cross-stitch patterns and sewing seems_ \--covering all the furniture not being used to hold tools and blue prints for the time being. Scorpius was standing under the rickety looking ladder that Al Potter was using; the blonde holding it in place for the black haired little terror that had coaxed the the young Malfoy out of the shell _(the one he had started building around himself in defense of most of the world that didn't see him as anything more than the son of a former Death Eater and the grandson of another Death Eater)_ at a significant rate from almost the moment they'd met.   
  
Scorpius wasn't looking at Al as the Potter child continued to use his meager third year level of Transfiguration to mend and seal the cracks and leaks in the walls and ceiling, however; Scorpius was looking over at Rose, the girl tilting her head as she changed the wall colors to a green less malevolent looking but still in Slytherin hues _(from the ever encompassing colors of black and grey to the same color of water that sea turtles thrived in coating the ceiling Al fixed, as well as a kind of green that reminded Blaise of snakes that did not bite and simply sat around until mating season arrived for them in mid-summer)_ while she balanced on a small end table, limp and comfy as a boneless cat.  
  
"What do you three think you're doing?!"  
  
The boys looked over at him like deer being yelled at by a pheasant and Rose did not even bother to cease coloring her targets.  
  
Amazing and powerful though Zabini often and almost always was, his morning voice was still groggy and cramped and neither alert boy even gave much of a reaction to his standing with his arms crossed in his nightwear; perhaps topping off the rather pathetic display was the rooster still standing next to him, pecking at one of the dead spiders that had fallen from the corners of the ceiling when the trio had dusted to get things done properly.  
  
"...Oh, you're up early," Rose noted in that faraway voice that reminded her teacher of Luna Lovegood and spoke volumes about his abilities to frighten. She got off of the table at least, picking up a poker and stabbing at the logs in the fire to get it bolstered up again.  
  
"We didn't wake you, did we, uncle?" Scorpius asked, at least having the decency to be polite and look a little timid as the man, suddenly tired of the bird at his feet, stalked over to sit on one of the sofas to recline and rub at his temples in a considerably worthless attempt to diminish his growing headache.  
  
"No, this bird that you three obviously snuck into the castle woke me up," he growled, less lethal and terrible than he would have been at that moment had Al not pointed his wand over the teacher's head and brought a coffee set into his reach, pouring pitch black, scalding hot, fresh Mocha smelling liquid into the largest mug.   
  
Blaise took the drink from where it hovered and sighed into the rim, cooling the drink, it seemed, with his exasperation, "Now answer my question. What in Merlin's name are you doing here at this hour?"  
  
Rose and Al hummed the repetitious and ever-awful noise of an insufferable tune known to every English speaking person in the world around the same time every year when the snow fell and lights were strung up on pine or spruce and suddenly, almost with a pinch of horror he'd only admit to Draco when drunk off the best Fire Whisky, everything made entirely too much sense.   
  
He almost swallowed every drop in his cup, heat and reactive burnt tissue be damned.  
  
_"We wish you a merry Christmas~ And a Happy New Year~"_


End file.
